Only Sleeping
by Mirune Keishiko
Summary: Two years after defeating Sin, Yuna comes back to where it all began. (Oneshot) (Revised to do slightly less injustice to the awesomeness)


Only Sleeping  
 _by Mirune Keishiko_

Why was she here?

Why was she doing this?

Sand gave way under her feet, the sound of the waves crested and fell in her ears. She moved forward with a resolve she did not feel.

Why was she doing this to herself?

The upthrust edges of an ancient, broken road cut stone-cold into her palm as she felt her way along, weeping, knowing only how every step rasped against the rock. In vain she wiped away the tears that seared tracks down her face. This wasn't even his city, she reminded herself. This wasn't _his_ Zanarkand.

Still she cried, for something she couldn't name. He'd been here; that was enough. In the failing afternoon light she picked her way down the trail, the ruins that littered the shore decaying as they had for the last thousand years. She tightened the thin wrap around her body against the rising evening wind, tucked away errant hair that fluttered in her eyes. She needed to see.

And then she found the spot. Or was it? Two years had passed. The sea sighed then as it did now. She fell to her knees, flattened her hands against the smooth, icy rock as though willing it to yield the warmth of her memories. Maybe this _was_ the place. Maybe this was where they'd set up camp that night, their fire burning black into the ground as pyreflies lit up the night around them. And maybe this was where she'd sat then, unsure how to grieve for a death yet to come, silent with her dread and despair like everyone else.

Silent, except him. Yuna smiled through her tears.

He was always so noisy, so restless. When even the irrepressible Wakka was weighed down by his thoughts, when even Rikku was overcome with sorrow, Tidus had stood up, gazed at the stars, strode across the sand. Laid his hand on her shoulder. She had leaned into him, just a little, not wanting to make a scene. His arm had been warm and strong against her cheek. She'd smelled the well-worn leather of his gloves, felt his fingers briefly catch and stroke her hair.

She hadn't known then. If she had, she would never have let him go so easily, never would have contented herself with the lingering scent of his sweat and skin and the last glimpse of his back as he climbed the rocky outcrop behind them. He had stared out to sea, perhaps wishing for the light-studded skyline of his youth, the unsleeping city he had always so excitedly promised to show her. Perhaps saying goodbye.

She hadn't known then. How could she have? Tears stung her eyes anew, pooled bitter in her mouth. He had told no one, not even Sir Auron. He had faced it all alone, staring off into a horizon that must have agonized him with how foreign it was, how familiar and beloved it should have been, amidst the ruin of a city that was nothing like he remembered it to be. She hadn't known.

And then he had come back, somehow he had come back, and he had laughed and joked and eaten with them in the firelight as if nothing had ever happened. His laughter had sounded strained, certainly, and even he had sometimes lapsed into leaden silence. But Yuna had not thought of it any more than she had of the others'. She had smiled at him, as she had smiled at them; and she had joked right back, as best she could.

Shame burned deep in her chest. She crumpled, shuddering. She hadn't known.

 _How I wish I could tell you I'm sorry._ Clenching her fists against the pain, she forced herself to stand where he had stood, look blindly where he had looked. _How I wish I hadn't held back._

But there were only stars and an endless horizon of night, and Kimahri covering her gently with a cloak, and yet more tears she belatedly whisked away on the back of her hand.

"We must go," the Ronso rumbled, gathering up his and Yuna's things and lifting high a yellow-burning lantern. "Cid wait for us. Much to do tomorrow."

Of course. The Al Bhed were celebrating their new Home and had joyously invited the High Summoner to the festivities. Yuna had merely asked her uncle for a small detour on the way. She'd thought, perhaps, after two years, she could finally make the trip. Numb, Yuna began to make her way back across the ruins, Kimahri a familiar presence behind her. She realized she was shivering and gripped her cloak more tightly around her. The sea hung dank and dense in the air.

As the airship swung up and into the starlit sky, she stood at the window in her cabin, straining to see the ruined city she had left. But the new moon left only shadows in the water, and Zanarkand was a black, craggy shoreline that soon fell away into the darkness as the ship sped on. Pressing her face against the glass, Yuna peered down into nothing until her vision again blurred with tears. She closed her eyes against the still-gnawing ache in her heart.

 _Forgive me,_ she had wanted to say, but she'd found she could not. She didn't feel she deserved to, not yet. She leaned into his last embrace, but felt nothing where he had used to feel so solid around her, so strong and warm and comforting. She clutched blindly in her mind at the last glimpses of his back as he walked away.

How she wished she hadn't let him go.

From the window she watched Mount Gagazet trail away behind the ship, a looming hulk of shadow covered in snow that sparkled dimly in the wake of the airship's lights. Ahead sprawled the dark vastness of the Calm Lands, and then the twilit forests of Macalania. All with their memories of him.

Her tears had dried. A chime sounded, calling passengers to supper. Yuna took one last look out the window at the night passing away around them, at the city long gone behind the snowy mountains.

Of course, it had never been his Zanarkand. She almost smiled now, the windowpane chill to her skin. How could someone like him have come from a crumbling old ruin like that? She could imagine the laughter in his voice, teasing her, being brave, as always. She clung to its fading echoes in the darkness of her room. He'd always wanted her to cheer up.

She finally stepped away from the window when the chime rang out a third time. Opening her door, she paused. Already she could hear Wakka's voice from the mess hall, rising over Lulu's calm tones. He was probably fussing again over his heavily pregnant wife, who would have none of it. Yuna found a smile slowly curving her mouth. The pain in her heart eased a little—but only a little. She lifted a hand to it, almost protectively.

She would keep this pain yet, nurse it, her last small secret. She didn't deserve for it to fade. Not yet.

It was all she had left of him, after all.

She closed the door behind her and hurried on. Her uncle would look for her soon.

And the ship flew on into the night.

 _owari_

[So, um, hi, FFX fandom. I'm about 14 years late to the game, literally, I know. And my writing was bad enough eons ago (geddit? "eons"? Eh-heh-heh-heh...heh-heh...) without this terrible, obvious rust all over it. But we all know the fanfic-writing itch shall not go unscratched. Especially not with such awesome characters and their painfully delightful, frustratingly tragic(?) story. Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it somehow.]


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